I came to California – arriving on Memorial Day Weekend 1982 – to study with Bhante or the Dharmawara Mathahera. In some ways I was ready to work with him – but in most ways I rebelled. A year later I moved out. Bhante gave me his shakti (spiritual energy from the guru) upon leaving and I used this to develop myself on my own spiritual path. Bhante and I remained friends. The photograph you see here was take when he was 93. I saw him shortly after his 100th birthday (a second photo not shown here) and then again at 101 when he was living in Merced by the Merced River. I last saw Bhante when he turned 109 about a year before his death when he spoke in both English and lapsing into Cambodian in mid-sentence with a Monk to interpret.

About six months after his death I had this dream – one of those very real dream-time dreams –

I was at a small hut / temple in monsoon season in the midst of a rice paddy. It was night. The temple was on stilts to avoid being flooded. The Dali Lama was there. I was bowing – and then on my knees kissing the hem of his garment.

“Get up, Frank,” The Dali Lama said laughing. “You’re one of us.”

I stood dazed and slightly disoriented:

“I am?”

“Oh yes. Besides I am here as a bridge to open a way for this man…”

The Dali Lama pulled back a heavy drape. There was smiling face with bright orange light all around. It was Bhante.